


ruining him

by paper_clip



Category: Original Work
Genre: Baby Boy, Body Worship, CFNM, Choking, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Feels, Gentle femdom, Kink Exploration, Loss of Virginity, Mommy Issues, Mommy Kink, Naked Male Clothed Female, Neediness, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Romance, Shyness, Vulnerability, gfd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25105588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paper_clip/pseuds/paper_clip
Summary: "I feel the safest with you, mommy.”
Comments: 5
Kudos: 97





	ruining him

**ruining him**

  
  


"Finally here," Martha yawns as she plunks down onto the bed.

"Yeah," says Fynn, still standing where they entered their hotel room a moment ago.

"What should we do now? Night's young." Martha wears a cheeky grin to match her tone.

"Uhm… What are you thinking of?"

Fynn doesn't seem to plan on coming any further into their room, that is, coming anywhere nearer the king sized bed, which is its main attraction.

"Oh, I'd have a few ideas…" She tosses her coat onto a chair within reach carelessly while her smile broadens. "They mainly involve you, the bed, and this blindfold I have in my bag."

She makes herself comfortable on the mattress she it sitting on then pays him a challenging look.

Fynn, however, looks a little disappointed.

 _No, that doesn't capture it in its entirety,_ she thinks, _he looks downright crestfallen. I've been dropping these kinds of ideas all day and he is only been getting more timid every time. How can a seventeen-year-old boy be that adorable? Ah fuck, I can't stop now that he is responding like that._

"I don't know. It's been a long ass day. I mean it was fun and all, but I hoped we could do something chill for now?"

He hasn't moved a centimeter, and is instead standing a few meters from the bed, restlessly fumbling with his jacket in his hands. _Could it be that he is nervous?_ He doesn't even look at her while asking his question. And the fact that he phrased it to be a question in the first place...

_Why the hell is he so cute?_

“Yes, sure, absolutely. Do you want to watch a movie? I could go grab some snacks from the vending machine in the lobby.”

Fynn visibly relaxes at her words.

“That'd be cool,” he agrees and finally settles on throwing his jacket over a chair, too.

  
  


~

  
  


The movie happenings are in full swing, bullets are flying everywhere and some guy has made an alliance with the Soviet spies, but Martha has stopped paying attention long ago. It's not so much on the movie as it is on a certain someone snuggling into her arms at some point and just generally being head-spinningly adorable. Her only interest now is the gorgeous boy lying on her chest and staring at the TV in front of them, mesmerized. In contrast to her, he is actually watching the movie quite successfully. He doesn't even get distracted when she starts feeding him popcorn with her right hand, one at a time. Sometimes she can feel his velvety lips brush against her fingertips for the fraction of a second. It's enough to make her thoughts run marathons; what would they feel like if she touched them longer, caressed them, kissed them?

Martha's left arm wraps tighter around Fynn's thin frame and he responds with a cozy, content sound, that triggers the warmest sensations to go up her chest. She takes it as an invitation to go further. She lowers her head to his neck and blows warm air against his skin as some sort of warning for what is to come. She watches in satisfaction how goosebumps appear on the back of his neck. The first kiss is soft and feather-light, barely there, but when her lips hit his skin, he startles nevertheless. Martha allows an amused smile to play on her lips as she presses them against Fynn's neck over again. And over and over again. The skin there is unbelievably soft; she thinks she could do it all day long.

Fynn is still watching the movie like it is the most interesting thing he has ever seen. It bugs her. She couldn't concentrate at all, much less wants to. A certain pull in her stomach won't let her. A certain pull in her stomach that he caused, for gods sake! Could he please not _not_ be distracted?? There's things she has planned for tonight.

_Let's see how well he and his indifference do once I told him about it._

She leaves his neck alone for the moment reluctantly and attacks his ear with small kisses to his earlobe instead. Her heart goes weak at how supple and yielding the flesh there is.

“I'm fucking horny,” she whispers. Straight to the point. “When you lie in my arms it's all I can think about. Your body, your smell, and your goddamn soft ears. You're making me dizzy...”

Fynn, who was relaxing a mere minute ago, has gone completely stiff.

Not exactly the reaction Martha anticipated, _but at least it's something. He isn't paying attention to the movie anymore. I can work with that._

“You have no idea what I want to do to you, do you?” she sighs, because it's true. She didn't tell him what exactly she has in mind for the both of them and neither did he ask. Probably the nerves.

_Let's get him yet more flustered, shall we?_

“There are a lot of things I want to try with you. It's okay if you are scared. In fact, you should be.”

She pauses and a smile mixes in her lowered voice when she continues. “I am going to make you tremble or beg or cry. Or maybe all three? If I was you, I'd hope it's going to be the good kind of crying.” And she bites down on his earlobe ever so gently.

Fynn is completely still. His eyes are fixated on the screen, unchanged, but the way his hands grasp on the fabric of her jumper tightly betrays his real state. Nervous, apprehensive. Putty in her hands.

“I know you want it. You'll be so good for me, won't you? Even when I am going to be mean to you, you will be a grateful boy and thank me after, isn't that right?”

She leans in impossibly closer until her lips brush his ear with every word.

“Even when I am going to hurt you? Because I will.”

Her right hand raises to his lips, touching a popcorn against them. He opens his mouth obediently and lets her feed him the popcorn.

“That's right,” she says barely audible, “I am going to hurt you and you will thank me afterwards.”

Her fingers touch his parted lips.

“Just like you're supposed to.”

She kisses the skin behind Fynn's ear lightly. Affectionately. Like one might kiss their most valuable possession. It's his turn to say something. Maybe something like “Yes” or “Whatever you want, mommy”. But instead he shifts about uncomfortably to get free of her left arm before murmuring a quiet “Bathroom.” and escaping her embrace altogether.

_Oh, shit. Did I mess up? Did I go too far with my little games? Should I say something?? He definitely looks uneasy with how things went._

But before Martha can formulate a coherent sentence, he has already disappeared into the small bathroom adjacent to their room.

_Should I go through with my plan nevertheless? I mean he would be okay with it if he knew... If only he knew... Regardless, I don't have much time. Now or never._

With that resolution in mind, Martha swiftly gets up, grabs her bag from where she left it on the floor and goes to work.

  
  


~

  
  


When the door handle clinks, Martha is ready. When Fynn steps out of the bathroom, she is awaiting him and opens her mouth to explain everything, but Fynn is faster. Without even wondering why Martha is in front of the bathroom door instead of on the bed around the corner, watching the movie, he starts talking very much very fast.

“Look, I know this is going to be disappointing and I don't want to be a disappointment to you. But you also told me you want me to be honest with you and I'm trying to be. It's just, I've never done this before and I feel like you are moving so fast and I don't know if I can do this. I mean not that I don't want to...”

_I was right. He really was scared of me moving to fast. I was aware I overdid it to be honest. But I couldn't stop myself, his reaction was simply too precious... Just like it is now. He's trying to be honest but not blunt about it to not upset me. What a rare gem, I've found. Too innocent for his own good. What he's saying almost sounds like a question more than a request._

“Fynn, you-” Martha starts but is interrupted by the continuous flow of words streaming from his mouth like an unstoppable waterfall.

“I know, I know. It's just new for me and I'm thinking that maybe I'm not ready. Not for the kinds of things you have in mind-”

“Fynn- Fynn,” she tries to end his rambling but to no avail. In the end he stops when she takes his hand. “Fynn, you got it all wrong. That wasn't what I really meant when I said those things. I admit that what I said was kind of misleading and... You know what? Just follow me. I want to show you something.”

She takes a step backwards, into the bedroom, still holding his hand in hers. Fynn looks at her for an uncertain second, then follows her as she leads him the few steps into their room. The change in his face when they round the corner and he sees what she did during his absence is immediate. The baffled yet skeptical frown on eyebrows dissolves and leaves space for something very different, she doesn't know how to construe.

She doesn't take her eyes off him once in fear of missing even a tiny bit of his reaction but mentally she imagines what he is seeing as his eyes wander over the scenery behind her. The TV is turned off. The bed is lit in the dim light of the bedside lamp and that of the candles she placed around it in random patterns. The blankets are tossed to the side. Instead, dozens of petals adorn the bed, loosely forming a circle of pink on the white sheets. The stems of the roses she ripped the petals off of are thrown on the floor carelessly, in the hurry of it all.

A few seconds pass and he still hasn't said a word. Nor has he taken his eyes off the bed behind her, while she only has eyes for him.

“This is for you,” she breaks the silence, “I hope you like it.”

Her thumbs draw circles on his hands that loosely lie in hers. Her heart jumps when he begins to talk at last.

“I- I thought you wanted to...” he trails off.

“I want to make this right,” she says hopefully. “I know what I said was something else entirely but it's not what I meant. You just looked too cute when you got all scared because I wanted to make you hurt. I love that look on you...”

“I was _not_ scared,” he points out sulkily.

She simply disregards his comment and takes a step closer to him.

“I am sorry that I said those things. I was never going to do any of that.”

Her hands leave his and lay down on his sides instead. They feel right, there. And they make him finally avert his gaze from the dimly lit bed and look only at her. Now that his eyes met hers, she can see the longing in them. His eyes are as easy to read as a children's book. They betray his softheartedness and the butterflies in his stomach, his apprehension, and how much he loves that she did this for him. It's so wonderful and vulnerable that Martha's voice goes hoarse and quiet.

“You'll have the most vanilla first time you could dream of, I promise. Maybe I'll be a little overly affectionate with you. I really can't help that. It's what you do to me. When I saw you for the first time, I just wanted to have you and hold you, whisper sweet things to you, and give you soft kisses. There is nothing I can do about it.”

Her arms circle around his small waist further, effectively drawing his body closer to her. There are a few centimeters left between their faces at most, due merely to the difference in height.

“Sorry that I left you panicking. That was unfair. But I hope you know that it was all talk. I wouldn't do this to you. Not when you are this soft. Not when it's your first time. I will make it feel special, like you deserve. Forget what I was saying earlier.”

Her gaze drops to his lips and rests there. Her voice is barely above a whisper when she says: “I was never going to hurt you.”

She stares at Fynn's lips, a couple of centimeters from hers. Not daring to make a wrong move. Waiting for him to give her a sign, anything. His closeness feels so good. As if her heart is going to burst from the tenderness she feels towards him. Never would she ever have hoped it could become even better, but it does when his head lowers to hers. Slowly, like in a trance, he lays his lips on hers and her eyes close.

 _That's it_ , she thinks. _This is it. It doesn't get any better than this._

But her heart doesn't burst. It's rather like it is overflowing with warmth. Like liquid filling her chest, bubbling with searing heat. Through the haze, she becomes aware of his arms, heavy on her shoulders. They loop around her neck and pull her impossibly closer. But not nearly close enough. If she's going to be one more minute without his skin on hers, she is going to go crazy, she thinks.

_I need to get those clothes off of him._

Martha's hands around his waist dip under his t-shirt to rest against his back. She can feel the narrowness of his frame and the bones beneath his skin.

_He's so skinny._

Her hands roam over his back while they kiss. There isn't a square centimeter of him she doesn't want and what she can reach at the moment isn't nearly enough. Her hands move to his sides, where his ribs protrude.

_So skinny and fragile in my hands._

She moves upwards, exploring more of his delicious body and gathering the fabric of his shirt in the process.

_I could count his ribs if I wanted to._

When she can't go up anymore, she breaks the kiss, slowly and regretfully. Her eyes open and she can watch his do the same a little later. They gaze at her like through a heavy curtain, clouding clear view. Although he makes no attempt at stopping her doing with his t-shirt, he seems resistant to letting go of his hold on her neck, which both his arms are slung around currently. As adorable as she finds it, she really needs to get this t-shirt off his chest. She tugs on it a little to get him back to reality. Reluctantly, he lifts his arms of her shoulders and lets her proceed in pulling his t-shirt over his head.

As soon as it is gone, however, his arms are wrapped around her again and pulling her in for a kiss. He is welcomed by ready lips, tilting into a smile at his hasty actions. Their tongues meet and the longing feeling in the pit of Martha's stomach returns, to touch him more and caress all of his body. Her hands find his belt soon enough. As she struggles to open it, a thought occurs to her.

_He hasn't started undressing me yet... or put his hands anywhere on me for that matter. Could it be he is overwhelmed with all of it at once? Pure baby, unable to handle a little bit of kissing. I'm his first, aren't I? Making me feel like I'm experienced, compared to him. Or... doesn't he dare undressing me without asking permission first? NO way. That'd be even better. Too shy to ask, my god. Wanting my approval at every step of the way. I'd love that. I'd make him so insecure and dependent on me that he could do nothing without asking me first. Mommy, do you like this shirt on me? Mommy, can I stay up late today? Mommy, can I meet my friends later? Ugh, he'd be a good momma's boy, that's for sure. Following my every whim. Needing my approval... I'm digressing. I won't do that. At least not today. Today, I can't even think about it. Today, everything we do is vanilla. For his first time. He'll be super happy and I'll control myself. For him._

She finishes opening his belt at last and unzips his jeans. She tugs them down to reveal his boxers, but that's as far as her reach goes.

“Could you take those off for me?” she murmurs into his parted lips.

He goes still as her hands stroke up and down the outside of his thighs. Then his arms let go of her a second time, his stance straightens, and his eyes avert to the floor almost immediately. Without as much as a glace to her eyes, he grabs for his jeans to pull them down the rest of the way and take them off along with his socks.

 _Good boy_.

As soon as he is done, he still doesn't look at her though. Rather, he seems determined to keep staring at the floor as if it is going to help hide his embarrassment somehow. As if it won't give off the impression of someone shrinking together into themself as if under immense pressure. She steps closer and buries one hand in his hair while the other one pulls him closer on his back. He is completely still in her hands, lets her pull him to her, doesn't even raise his eyes. His arms hang uselessly at his sides. His compliance jabs a stitch in her heart. She places a small kiss on his nose, which finally succeeds in getting his attention back to her face. He is blushing.

_He. Is. Blushing. Brain, work. I need you now. How can I tell him he doesn't need to be embarrassed? Or should I not mention it at all? It's just going to make him more embarrassed, poor baby... Now, I definitely can't call him that if this is going to be vanilla... Fuck. Tiny baby needs mommy to tell him it's okay... Fuck._

Since she can't think of anything, she just kisses him again. It seems to be the right decision as he kisses her back and, after a moment, his hands lie on her hips hesitantly. She slowly strokes through his hair and the kiss ends. She watches his eyes open and it makes her stomach feel weird exactly like the first time she saw it. Her hand in his hair keeps on stroking mindlessly.

“Are you sure you want this? You can still say no.”

The concern in her question is audible.

“No, yes,” he hurries to say. “I mean yes, I do.”

Fynn has averted his eyes again and the blush from earlier creeps back up his neck.

Martha cracks a smile. Her left hand travels from the small of his back to his chest.

“Then move.”

She pushes against his bare chest, but without force and guides him to the bed like that. When the backs of his knees hit the bed, he sits down on it without a fuss.

_Just quiet and compliant like a good little pet._

She can't help her right hand still stroking his hair. He's simply too much of a good boy.

“Move a little,” she says gently. She tips her head towards the middle of the bed where the petals lie, scattered lavishly on the white sheets.

He obliges her prompting and she follows him onto the bed, laying him down onto the petals when they arrive at their center. She looks down on him and a sigh escapes her lips. He lays there, in just his boxers, a ring of petals encircling him. Her fingers tingle with anticipation to touch. She only awakens from her haze because she sees his Adam's apple bob when he swallows hard. Surprised, she comes to the realization that she is still fully dressed.

_Great, I made it kinky. Now I am dressed and he is not. And he is laying on the bed. Most definitely anxious as to what I want to do to him. And I just said this was going to be as vanilla as it can be..._

With a little effort, she rips her gaze off of him and his exposed body and hops off the bed. In lightning speed her clothes are gone, save for her plain, black underpants. She drops everything to the floor nonchalantly and is over him again in a matter of seconds. Fynn has propped himself up on his elbows to watch her but when she jumps on him like she is going to eat him alive, he lets himself drop back onto the mattress quickly and without a word.

 _Like he is scared of me_ , she thinks, absolutely enchanted. _Like he's trying to flee from me. It will be to no avail, honey... Nothing in the world will get me off you now. Let me touch you and fuck you and make everything feel good._

With those thoughts in mind, she leans on her hands next to his head and lies down right onto him. She snuggles close into his body and breathes his scent. It envelopes her like a warm blanket. She nuzzles his neck, not able to get enough of him and his effect on her.

“You smell nice,” she whispers and places kisses wherever she can reach.

Her hands run up and down his sides and her legs intertwine with his. In this position she can feel his cock getting hard against her belly, only his boxers separating skin from skin.

_He must like this. A lot. Lovely baby has never had a girl touching his body, kissing his neck before. Hnngh. Does it feel like to much all at once? He hasn't made a move to touch me in return, yet again. Does he need me to go slower?_

“Is this okay?” she murmurs in-between kisses to his neck.

“Yes,” Fynn answers weakly but instantly.

She takes that as an encouragement to start grinding against his cock in hopes of getting his voice even weaker. What she didn't expect were the small moans that fall from his lips within an instant. His hands grip on the sheets besides him and his cock presses against her through the fabric of his boxers.

_Innocent baby. So inexperienced._

“How's this?” she asks with a cheeky smile on her lips and grinds against him some more. It elicits more of those pure sounds she wants to hear, and it makes her long for yet more.

“G-Good,” Fynn stammers with difficulty. His face has gone bright red again.

“Oh boy. You sound like you are having a hard time... Don't fret. I'll help you,” she snickers and rolls off of him. She sits up next to him and tugs a little on his boxers.

“You'll need to lift your hips a bit for me to get those off, Fynn.”

His face becomes impossibly redder and he does as he is told while gracefully averting his eyes. He also lifts his legs when she slides the last piece of clothing on him down to take it off.

Then he lays before her. Completely naked and exposed. And hard. There is little left in her head but the want to fuck him like this. Pretty and needy for her and amid a circle of petals.

_I will make you mine._

She gets up, slides her black underpants down her legs and turns to the bed. Fynn has propped himself up on his elbows once more and watches her, looking anticipatory. His arms are shaking, like every second without her is causing him physical pain. Which could very well be the case, she decides, judging from the way his dick is standing up vertically and looking positively iron.

She walks to the bed, catching his eyes with hers. Their eye contact doesn't break as she crawls on top of him and neither does he retreat and lie back into the mattress like before. It's her turn to first stroke his hair and look down at him mildly, then lay a hand on his chest and push until his arms give way. Fynn legitimately possesses the audacity to whimper as she pushes him down. It makes him seem even more like a scared animal, with his wide open eyes and apprehensive expression. It makes her sight go white with the need to hold him and comfort him, but also to simply take him and have him for herself forever.

Her eyebrows draw together on her forehead. Both her hands run back and forth on his stomach, producing a small amount of warmth, which she hopes to be a soothing sensation.

“Shhh, it's okay, baby,” she coos. “I'm here. You don't need to worry about anything right now.”

 _Just be still and perfect like this_ , she adds in her head for only herself to hear.

But instead of listening, Fynn produces another of those mind-boggling sounds and she realizes too late what she just said. Her eyes widen.

“Oh, sorry. I-I didn't need to call you that... This is for you and not for me and I shouldn't make it unnecessarily kinky and call you baby... It's- it's... You just-”

“Can... C-Can you call me that again?” he breaks her stammering shyly.

“Call you... baby?” She seems genuinely at a loss.

“Yes.”

His voice is barely above a whisper. As soon as he said the word, a wave of unstoppable relief washes over her, taking all of her restraint with it for a second.

“Oh of course! Yes, baby. I will call you that however often you want me to.”

The little whimper he gives her when she calls him baby for the second time only serves to intensify the need and want in her to... she doesn't know. She doesn't know what is this longing or how to satisfy it, how to scratch this itch. The only thing that seems to help is running her hands all over his body and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

“Don't worry, baby. I got you. Don't be scared. I will be gentle with you and will make you feel so good.”

Her hands run over his limp arms besides him, his bony shoulders, pale chest. She wants to feel every square centimeter of him under her.

 _Mine,_ is all the can think.

“I want you to feel safe with me. I will do nothing you don't want. If you don't like something, you always need to tell me, okay?”

Her hands arrive at his throat. She is careful to go on into his hair real quick but in his eyes she can see she has rested them there a nanosecond too long. It causes him to move for the first time beneath her and it is just his hands clutching onto her legs straddling him.

_He could have placed his hands anywhere. He could have grabbed my thighs or my ass for that matter... But he merely dared to hold onto my shins, where he doesn't have real power. No control at all, just needing to hold onto something. He must be very frightened, fuck. I just said I want him to feel safe with me._

She resolves not to mention it and try to make him feel safe nevertheless.

“I'll go slow, I promise.”

She means it. There's nothing in the world she wants less than to ruin Fynn's first time by moving too fast. It should feel like something special, not like it's her moment but his. He should know she cares about making it as good as she can for him. He should be able to enjoy it.

Her hand runs through the sheets besides them, gathering a bunch of petals. She raises them above his chest, where her other hand caresses his skin and lets them fall bit by bit down to his body. She does this to his chest, stomach, arms and neck, her left hand running back and forth over his skin and through the petals on him all the while.

She only looks at his body now, which her hands seem not to get enough of. When she finally looks into his eyes again, he is staring back at her without a word. Her lips part to say something but close again when she doesn't find the right words.

_Those motionless arms, scrawny shoulders, red lips. Simply flawless._

Instead, she leans down to him once more and places her lips on his. He doesn't resist. Her hand moves through his hair as she kisses him slowly and soulfully.

Neither of them want it to, but in the end the kiss finds an end. She doesn't move away though, but keeps her face only centimeters from his, stroking his hair still. Unwilling to let the moment end. She almost dives in for another kiss, when he says: “The flowers are really pretty, thank you."

His voice is small and unstable like he is convincing every syllable to come off his lips first.

"They're only the second prettiest thing on this bed."

She smiles and gives in to kissing him again. She can sense his desperation even in the way his lips move against hers. The opportunity to take advantage of it tempts her more than she can say. So much that eventually she grinds a little against his stiff cock, which she knows will drive him insane. Indeed, she feels his hips jerk slightly as if he is slowly losing control over his body. Their lips part in the kiss and an accidental whine leaves his throat. Once more, a smile spreads over her face.

“We need to put a condom on you,” she grins. “Before something bad happens.”

She grabs the condom she deposited on the nightstand beforehand and holds it out to him. However, instead of taking it, he glances at it sheepishly and his face assumes a deep red color.

_Heaven, could it be...?_

“Do you know how to put this on, baby?” she asks, still holding the condom out to him.

He stares past her for an insecure moment, then shakes his head, which is red like a tomato at this point.

“Oh, that's no problem at all! I will do it for you, baby. Just watch and learn, okay?”

She rips open the flat package and places the condom at the tip of Fynn's dick. The foreskin slides back and she rolls it down. Fynn presses his eyes shut from the sensation. It's the first time anyone has touched him like that after all.

“Hey, I told you to watch,” Martha grins but without any anger in her voice.

Nevertheless Fynn quickly opens his eyes.

“What are you going to...?”

He trails off and suppresses the urge to promptly close his eyes again at how especially dumb his question sounded. Martha doesn't seem to think so though.

“I am going to ride you now, baby. Do you want that?”

Her expression speaks of all the concern for him in her, louder and clearer than words ever could. Her hands continue to go up and down his sides restlessly as she lifts her hips to position herself over his cock.

“Do you feel ready?”

“Yes, mommy,” he nearly whispers. His eyes cling to her in the knowledge that he is in her hands now.

 _Mommy_.

The word goes through her body like a jolt of adrenaline. Or pure endorphins shooting through her bloodstreams at lightning speed. She can't deal with the devoted expression on his face. Like he said it to please her, to get her to like him. To her shock, she wouldn't rule out that possibility right away.

“Thank you, but you can't call me mommy right now. I don't need you to be obedient and yielding at the moment. I need to know you mean it.”

She tries hard to neither caress his body with her hands nor call him baby like she wants to. He has to be Fynn for a second and this would just make it harder for him.

“Yes,” he breathes without hesitation.

“Okay,” she smiles and lowers herself onto his cock gingerly.

It feels weird at first like it always does, but her attention lies on him exclusively. She doesn't miss the way his fingers dig into her legs or how his lips part slightly and let out a shaky breath.

"Is this okay, baby?"

Even asking this question turns her on an inexplicable amount.

Fynn merely nods and utters a faint “Mmhm” by way of answering. Martha waits a moment to give him time to collect himself, then moves her hips the slightest bit. She is rewarded with a small gasp, which incites her to go further and hopefully make him be loud and uninhibited. That would be satisfying beyond measure, she thinks.

First, however, she takes her time, runs her hand over his skin, and grinds against him the tiniest bit. This alone succeeds already in making him emit tiny sounds and his face contorts into an expression you'd expect to see on someone who is in great pain. She can make out a slight wrinkle forming on his forehead in the candlelight and watches his dimly lit body squirm beneath her.

“How does it feel, baby?”

She needs to hear.

“It feels so good, mommy. You are making me feel so good. I am thankful.“

She can tell he is trying to keep the whine out of his voice. He is failing brilliantly.

“Thank you. Thank you, mommy.”

Her vision goes blurry. The last thing she expected was this sort of ambush. Thanking her like this. Thanking her when she is taking his virginity. Thanking her without need. She nearly moans. Her head only produces fragments of complete thoughts.

_He just wanted to thank me. He didn't even need to do that. Good baby._

She moves her hips, he moans, and she feels like the world is spinning.

“You don't have to thank me. I'm doing this for you. Everything for you.”

She lifts her hips and declines them again ever so slowly. It makes him moan still. She can't help it and leans down to silence him with a kiss. Her fingers get caught in his disheveled hair in order to dishevel it yet more. She is patient and affectionate and her hips gradually begin to move again. He can't stop himself moaning into their kiss.

_He must be feeling really good. **I** am making him feel like this._

She unglues herself from his lips and sits up again to gain leverage. Like this, she starts riding him for real. Fynn doesn't disappoint and moans fall from his lips one by one. She fears her heart is going to burst if he keeps going like that. Getting louder and louder and more desperate by the minute. The palms of her hands draw circles on his abdomen, creating a warm and soothing sensation. But she is not sure he even notices it. His moans just keep on getting more and more heart-wrenching.

_I wonder if I could... Or couldn't he take it? This seems like almost too much for him already. He'd tell me if he was close though... He'd ask me for permission for sure. He's going to be fine. Let's give it a go._

She keeps a firm eye on his face to register any fleeting emotions that might come and go over it and moves her hips in a circular motion with his cock buried deep inside her. She attempts at using her muscles like she knows would be pleasurable for him and hopes for the best. The reaction is instantaneous. She can virtually see his eyes getting a dazed expression and watch how his mouth opens to let out the smallest and at the same time the sweetest of moans. Now that she has witnessed his reaction and her heart has nearly stopped beating altogether, she can't stop there of course. Her hips move faster and with less regards to being careful. The little moans coming from Fynn turn into whimpered “mommy”s.

_Baby._

His body seems to be painfully far away from hers all of a sudden. His cheeks too far for her to kiss, his hair too far for her to stroke, his head too far for her to hold in her hands.

“Mommy...”

_Like a cry for help. Like a wounded kitten whining for its mommy._

“Yes baby,” she moans, “I'm here.”

Her hands grab his skinny body to show him. They dig into his soft flesh, deeper than she would normally dare. He's too soft, what if she hurts him? All while her hips won't slow down.

“Mommy,” he whines as if she didn't say a thing. As if he is still pleading her to rescue him from something. It makes unpleasant and pleasant sensations run through her body at the same time.

“Mommy is here,” she assures him. “I got you. I will keep you safe, I promise you. I won't let any bad anywhere near you. You are safe with me...”

She continues to hold his body and murmur sweet things to him but the only thing coming out of his mouth is “mommy...” She doesn't stop for a while in fear he might not say this word, she wants to hear from him the most, in this amazing way again. In the end she forces herself to give him a break and stops her movements. She sits on him, with his cock lodged inside her, and musters his face in an attempt to read his thoughts.

“Is this okay? Am I moving too fast?”

“N-No,” he stammers.

“You don't need to get shy now, baby.” The smile is back in her voice. “You just moaned for me like your life depended on it. You were very loud, you know? And very pretty.”

He only gets more shy hearing that and turns his head to the side.

“Oh, baby,” Martha sighs and seizes the opportunity to lean over and plant kisses on his neck and jaw wherever she can reach.

Her hands stroke over his hair automatically. Fynn lies amazingly still but she can hear his shaky breath betraying his excitement. Her kisses travel up his ear, which is soft as sin and over to his cheek but she still doesn't have enough of him. Her hands rest on the sides of his head and push him to face her again.

“Look at me while I ruin you,” she demands in a tone that allows no talking back.

Then her expression goes mellow again and she places her lips on his. He responds immediately and opens his mouth for her.

_So easy and yielding. Eager to submit to what I want._

His lips are soft and faithful. Body limp and corruptible.

_My vulnerable baby. Lets me do anything I want to him._

Suddenly, she becomes painfully aware of her hands on either side of his head just centimeters from where he is so soft that her mind is swirling. She can feel his narrow, pale, sinful, sinful neck beneath her pinkie and ring fingers. She struggles to concentrate on the kiss as her hands glide infinitesimally lower. This time it's Fynn who ends it.

He looks into her eyes like she told him.

“Choke me.”

The request hangs in the air between them for a second before she has fully comprehended it.

“You want me to... to-” she stutters, not able to catch on one logical thought. “No, no. No, baby.”

She sits up again, her eyebrows drawing together on her forehead in a concerned manner. Her hands leave his neck as if she has burnt herself on him. They retreat to his stomach and draw the soothing circles from before once again.

"No, I can't do that. Not that I don't want to... But this is your first time. I will make it good for you, I promise. It's your evening, okay?”

She is rambling now but he interrupts her with all the confidence he can muster.

"Choke me.”

She knows it's too late as soon as he said the words for a second time. Nothing can take this away from her now. He _asked_ her. But he can't know that of course and continues to talk into the silence.

“Go on. I know you've been dying to. It's okay.”

And then, quieter: “Please, choke me.”

_He said please._

It's all she can think.

_My baby wants me to choke him. He said please. Like he is supposed to._

Her hands grip on his body in helpless arousal at that last thought. It doesn't occur to her at all what impression she must give off before she feels his hands on hers. He picks them up carefully and moves them to his throat. Her breath catches.

_He must've thought I was not entirely convinced. If only he knew... What things I want to do him. Would he still act like this?_

“You are right. I want to. I want to grip your throat hard and feel how soft you can go under me. You'd look angelic like that,” she admits. “But do you feel safe? It will scare you, won't it? I can't do this to you knowing I'm not making you feel as safe as I could...”

He looks up at her out of big, glassy eyes. Her heart melts and breaks a little at the same time.

"I feel the safest with you, mommy.”

That tips her over the edge. There is no internal monologue in her left that could tell her to be rational or to think twice about it. It's just this overwhelming tenderness and roughness that battle for dominance inside her.

One of her hands strokes his hair lovingly. The other wraps around his throat tighter. He finally looks scared now. Like she knew he would. Like, secretly, she wants him to look, because it simply feels absolutely great. Her heart must be no more than puddle at this point from how much it melted for him.

Her hand feels right and warm on his throat.

"Tap my arm if it's to much,” she says, the worry thick in her voice. “I'll stop immediately, I promise. Baby, I promise you. Just tap my arm then, okay?”

He nods, looking up to her helplessly. He has given up every last bit of control to her. His eyes plead her to praise him. For being such a good boy. For trusting her to make him into this needy mess. For letting her do to his throat as she pleases. But she won't give in just yet. He will need to hold on for a bit and receive his praise when he deserved it.

_That's right, he will have to do better than this to get that praise, he wants so bad._

Her eyebrows almost meet her hairline from how much they are drawn together by her ineffable emotions.

"How could I have said no when you asked me that nicely?” she purrs. “Saying please, my god... You know how you are supposed to ask mommy for stuff.”

She grinds her hips again and moans, but in contrast to him it sounds zero percent shaky and a hundred percent predatory.

“How could I have denied you? Any sane person would take advantage of you like this. It's not my fault your throat is so tender and vulnerable.”

His pitiful moans have started again and his fingers dig into her legs like before. But she is just getting started on him.

“You should do something about that,” she says, breathy. “Such an accessible throat on such a cute boy shouldn't be in existence. It should be illegal. There could be people who exploit that. And you couldn't defend yourself, could you? You are just a defenseless baby, who needs mommy to protect you.”

They whimper in sync. Her hand on his throat tightens.

“You should take care of that nobody ever sees that soft throat of yours. When they've seen it, how are they supposed to act right?? That's right, it's your fault. You made me like this. You should be illegal.”

Fynn whines and squirms under her. His hands leave her legs to lay around the forearm of her hand on his throat ever so lightly.

The frightened image he makes has Martha go weak.

"You look so good like this,” she whispers. “All moany and squirmy and obedient and _mine_. You are mine, baby. I won't let anybody else have you. This is all for me.”

“Mommy,” is the only thing he can say.

It sounds small and thankful and she loves it. She thirsts over every little reaction he bestows on her. It's like she is drinking his moans and movements and the fear in his eyes. She increases her pace on his cock.

“You are perfect like this. My perfect, docile boy. You won't act up, will you? You will be good and obedient and take what I give you.”

He gives a tiny whimper. His fingers tap her forearm.

A stab of guilt goes through her heart. She let's go of his throat immediately.

"Sorry! Sorry, are you okay?? I'm sorry, I overdid it, I know. I will never do it again, I-”

"Mommy, I am going to cum,” Fynn admits. “I'm okay. You didn't hurt me. I'm sorry, I was just so close to cumming and I know I have to ask first and I didn't know what to do.”

He looks miserable.

“I almost came without permission,” he confesses and casts down his eyes bashfully.

She gains her stern voice back in the blink of an eye.

“What did I tell you about you looking away?”

“I-I should look at you w-while you ruin me,” he responds shyly and without looking up.

_He remembered._

“And am I ruining you?”

“Yes, mommy.”

Those two words alone make her want to gather him in her arms and fuck him senseless until he cums saying “mommy” over and over.

“Then why the fuck are you not looking at me?”

His eyes shoot up to hers in an instant. His gaze has something fragile and tender and she thinks maybe she went to far with her harsh tone and deprecating stare. He doesn't even apologize; a clear sign of his genuine fear.

“I'm sorry, baby, but you won't get to cum just yet. I'm not finished with you. Hold it for me for a bit, okay?”

She leans over him and starts placing kisses on his neck without further ado. Her hips start moving on his cock again.

“I want to make your neck color, baby. I love that it turned red because of me. Looks delicious. You make me want to suck pretty pinks and purples onto you. Would you let me do that?”

“Yes,” he answers dutifully.

“You will let me leave marks on your neck, baby? Let me mark you as mine? _My_ baby. Your body is mine.”

“Yes,” he moans and lets his head fall back so that his throat is exposed to her even more.

“Good boy,” she finally allows herself to say before beginning to suck a beautiful mark to his neck.

Fynn starts moaning “mommy” over and over again just like when she first started riding him for real. She is fairly certain what that means. And she is willing to give it to him. He pleased her a lot after all...

"It's okay, baby,” she tells him softly. “You can cum.”

“M-mo-mommy, m-... m-mom... mommy, m-mommy...”

“You did very well. And you are so pretty now. Good boy... Good boy. Cum for me now. Yes, that's right, mommy is here. You are a good boy. Good boy.”

He cums with a sob while she strokes his hair and tells him what a good boy he is.

She is stroking his hair still, when he comes back to himself a minute later. Her body is pressed against him. The candles have burned down, he notices. It's darker now and it makes him very sleepy very fast.

“I'm tired, mommy,” he whispers.

“That's okay, baby. Sleep now. Mommy will take care of everything. Rest now, okay?”

No answer comes back and she realizes he has already fallen asleep. She smiles contently and cuddles his body to hers.

“Sleep well, angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my second story ever :) Working title was "he said please", which I liked a lot, but I felt "ruining him" does a better job at summarising what the story is all about haha ^^ Let me know which one you find better and also all criticism and thoughts are appreciated!! Reading your comments makes me happy!
> 
> Thanks for reading ♥


End file.
